


Had You From New

by SylviaW1991



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Community: Good Omens Fic Writers Workshop, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, Ficlet, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:16:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28882311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylviaW1991/pseuds/SylviaW1991
Summary: Crowley gets a car.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), The Bentley & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 40
Collections: GOFWW Guess the Author Round 1





	Had You From New

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of the Guess the Author game for the Fic Writers Workshop server ❤️  
> 500 words for the prompt "Burn"

It had been seventy-one years. Not that Crowley was counting. They'd been apart for far longer than seventy-one years, six months, and twenty-two days before. They'd once gone centuries without seeing one another. Centuries with only fragile humanity for company, watching them grow and develop. It had been exciting. New inventions, new shows of their imaginative creativity, were _still_ exciting to Crowley. 

It was why he was as intrigued as he was by the four-wheeled automobiles that were doing their best to replace horses. He hadn't bought his own yet. Having slept through sixty of these seventy-one years, he'd spent the last eleven stuck in the States. They drove, but it had been all about speeding away from police with illegal alcohol in the back. Fun, yes. Crowley did have a sense of adventure, after all, but he hadn't purchased a vehicle of his own there. They ended up shot at too often, the engines doing ridiculous things like overheating or catching fire. 

_His_ car would never. _His_ car wouldn't burn. Ergo, he wouldn't be buying American.

Once home again, Crowley slipped behind the wheel of a brand new Bentley. He relaxed on the dark leather of its cushions, and held the wheel in his hands. The salesman had offered him driving gloves, but he'd wanted to feel the wheel under his palms. Get a feel for this car, compare it to others he'd driven. 

It quivered beneath him, around him, even before he turned the key, and he knew this was his. It wanted to go fast and he wanted to push down on the accelerator to see just how fast it could go. He wanted to speed to Soho, to traipse into a building he'd never been locked out of, and cajole an angel into this latest feat of technology. This latest exciting display of what the humans could do. 

He reached into his pocket, pulled out more than the car's price, and handed it all over with a little wave before peeling off the lot with a squeal of tyres that, to Crowley, sounded a little like a laugh. Maybe he'd get a new one in a few years when the technology in cars evolved, but for now? He was content with this Bentley. He was content to careen through London, away from Soho, with the windows down and an unfamiliar taste of freedom on his tongue. 

Eighty-five years, nine months, and three days later, an angel said, “Crowley, I _know_ you're excited to have her back, but must you go so fast?” 

Freedom was still an unfamiliar taste, but he had time to get used to it now. He had time to get used to a lot of things. He tossed Aziraphale a wry grin, shared a fond look with him above their joined hands. Only one was on the wheel, Crowley trusting his newly restored Bentley to avoid passengers and potholes and whatever else dared get in their way on this new day. 

“Obviously, angel.”


End file.
